


Roleplay

by yourthyla



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Drugs, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Petrellicest, Roleplay, Romance, Sex, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:14:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5006143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourthyla/pseuds/yourthyla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Placed in episode 4x18 in Sylar's mind. Peter misses Nathan and Sylar loves to roleplay. But maybe Sylar wants to hear those words said to him, and not to Nathan. The more Gabriel he's becoming, the easier he can get hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roleplay

„Peter, stop it already. You tried, it doesn’t move a bit, just like seven months ago. Deal with it.” The voice dragged itself from the end of the block and it pissed Peter off. He couldn’t even hope it was anyone else but him. He ignored.

“Let’s have dinner, hm? I found this restaurant, has supplies in the freezer. It will taste just like from a chef.” He smirked, coming closer leisurely. “I did cooking researches.”

“You can’t, this is your dream. Your knowledge is all you have.” Peter retorted, hitting the wall with a large hammer. His only companion sighed soundlessly but a light plastic smile stayed on his face.

“You just can’t let it go, can you? We won’t get out of here.” He repeated like he did the first days of Peter’s stay.

“There must be a way! We wasted too much time already!” Petrelli finally turned around with angered frown (oh he gives him so much of that lately) and it seems, to his companion, like he’s going to swing that hammer into his face. _Everytime_. But Sylar stayed composed, eyebrows lifted by bit.

“I’ve been here much longer than you. I think I know a thing or two about _my_ world, don’t you think? Come on. A dinner. Haven’t eaten together for weeks.” He jerked his head towards the empty street behind him. Peter gazed in the direction for a while and in the end he turned back to the wall.

“I don’t dine with murderers.” He claimed.

“You _tire_ me, Peter! I said I’m sorry for your brother but _don’t_ blame me for the life I’ve let go! You think it’s easy? To change? But I’ve had enough time to get to know myself. This is now what I am.” He explained again, trying to keep him near. Because by now Peter didn’t want to hear it and walked around him. Sylar didn’t show it but he was afraid he would be left again. Of course, they could never really _leave_ this place; they’re stuck in this nightmare together. Peter just tended to run away, disappear. Not far, Sylar supposed, he couldn’t fly these days. But recently he had left the city for over two months, letting Sylar sink in his own depression and guilt.

Peter was literally the only person on the whole world and the last and only cure for Sylar’s eternal loneliness. Maybe it wasn’t the end of his punishment yet; for his acts, for his murders and bad intentions, but he couldn’t let go of a chance to ease his suffering. Peter was the key, the savior, it was already his nature. A hero. And he was making Sylar a better person.

After those months, they started getting on quite well. Sylar thought they could finally let the past go. But recently it seemed to go back to normal, and he didn’t know why, what he’s done this time.

“But can it return my brother?” Peter replied with a rhetorical question and it drove Sylar crazy that he seemed to never forgive him that. He must had really loved his brother.

“Would you then,” Sylar asked, “prefer dining with Nathan?” It was a kind of resignation from his side.

Peter stopped himself and turned around, wanting to warn him about the provocation. But seeing him now melted his heart and made his eyes glister. Nathan’s name escaped his lips in a shaky whisper.

“What do you say, Pete?” He tilted his head forward with eyebrows rising, as he does. The senator in all glory. Peter would _nearly_ run back to embrace him.

“Why are you doing this..” he said in a broken voice.

“You’re my brother.” Sylar improvised. “Come on, buddy” he threw in some of Nathan’s quotes, skillfully placing hand on Peter’s shoulder, implying to go ahead, and Peter was lost.

“No.” He shook his head. “I’m not.” And brushing his hand off, he walked away. It was hard temptation but Peter found it degrading.

\--

It started raining. Rarely ever happened. Sylar stood under a roof of a shop, only watching the increasing rain in front of him. He held a cigarette. This was perhaps why he’d never been a good boy. People can be shitty, he thought. Peter was a brat too. For some reason, though, he felt gloomy after all those refusals lately. _Let’s play cards. Let’s drive around the city. Let’s eat, drink, watch, break, find, read._ Nothing was good enough for Peter lately. Perhaps it was because of Nathan’s recent birthday. Peter spent a lot of time on the cemetery.

Speaking of Peter, Sylar noticed him passing by, not being so surprised since this was one of the main streets.

“Peter?” He called. He was given a look but Peter didn’t stop for a talk. "Where are you going?" Sylar continued. “Why don’t you drive or have an umbrella-“ he furrowed eyebrows and started following him, tossing the cigarette on the ground. He went two steps to one of Peter's as he tried to catch up and he wondered how he made such big steps with his shorter legs.

"Home, I'm going back home." Peter retorted, his words fading in the heavy rain hum.

"Home? But this isn't the way-" Sylar tilted his head back, realizing “oh.” Peter usually slept at his own place, unlike Sylar who liked to explore and actually took advantage of the cursed freedom he'd got. So he slept over at people's places, cinemas, wellnesses, schools or offices, and he desperately wished he didn’t feel lonely when being surrounded by people's memories. But there weren't any as it was his dream, he only created them himself and it was even sadder.

However, Peter didn't head to his flat at Lower East side. He went back home. Sylar knew Peter missed his family and his friends. His brother, Angela, Claire. Maybe even Hiro, Ando, or Matt Parkman. Probably anyone but him. Would he remember him if he was the only one missing?

Sylar was generally lonely, true, but he didn’t share this lack of specific people. And he understood the system, why he's still and constantly so mad at him. How could he not be? Family meant much to Peter. He killed his dearest, closest person on Earth. He did harm to his mother too, he intended to kill her, tried to kill Claire as well, he killed his father - which was one he didn't blame him much for. But still, getting rid of the hate for Sylar was hard. Finding a reason alone to forgive him was hard. Not even hours at church helped.

Sylar followed him like a shadow to the Petrellis' house. They didn't mind they're soaked to bone. Their hair was mess, their skins covered in goosebumps. Peter didn't tell Sylar to go away, he didn't care. Or maybe he tormented him with his own sadness. Lo and behold, it did hurt Sylar.

\--

Peter was sitting on the sofa in living room. He listened to the raindrops drumming on the windows. Sylar walked out of the bathroom several minutes later. His hair was fixed again, slicked back (with a hair product he had borrowed there) and just a white towel around his hips. It was Peter's house but they kind of forgot about courtesy, it would also be silly to ask for permission in his own dream. Peter didn't even give him a look as he expected, he just stared ahead. It was unhealthy.

The former villain threw the soaked packet of cigarettes in a trash on his way to the sofa. "You should change." He advised but Peter ignored him again. Sylar didn't use to care. But the more he did this, the more his heart cracked. It seemed to never happen to Peter but Sylar did grow fond of him during those months. Wordlessly, he left to Peter’s bedroom and chose some dry clothes for Peter, from his wardrobe.

Turning around on a heel, he stopped himself before trespassing the threshold. He carried the cotton t-shirt and slacks folded on his hands and without giving it a thought, he brought the fabric up to his nose, inhaling the scent in. He surprised himself as he slowly realized how sick this is. He _knew_ he would hate seeing himself behaving this outrageously just several months ago. When he walked out of the room, he held the crumbled clothes carelessly in one hand in attempt to look indifferent.

"Don't try to take care of me." Peter muttered when familiar clothes landed beside him on the sofa.

"I was just-" Sylar tried to defend himself.

"You're not my mother, neither brother, Sylar!" Peter shouted at him and with that, a struck of lightning appeared and a thunder resounded outside. Must have been some shift of emotion.

Sylar swallowed, straightening his body. "I know." He replied quietly. "Don't call me that." He reminded him, just like he’d been doing for months. Apparently, Peter wasn’t willing to _fucking_ remember it.

"It's your name."

"It's Gabriel!" He now shouted back, and he _could_ do that. It resounded even broader and more aggressive than Peter’s shout.  "Just Gabriel." He repeated quietly and turned around. Waste of time here, he thought. He left the room and subsequently the house. Peter didn't care where, or if he went in that towel. He was profoundly indifferent, and he was obsessed with grieving.

\--

A week later, Peter was in the local cinema where he spent recent days, out of boredom and vanity of his life. During the third movie this evening, he got a company. It wasn’t so difficult finding him, it might be a coincidence but they both knew about places they usually visited these days. The smell of popcorn invaded the room and it was the first thing to let Peter know about the other guest. Silently, he took the seat next to him, out of all the empty places in the whole room.

"What are they screening?" He began with a small talk.

"Star Trek." Peter replied, reaching obliviously in the box of popcorn on Sylar's lap. "You wear glasses again." He observed without looking at him. Gabriel just nodded.

The film was in its third, they watched silently for minutes. They acted like they’ve seen each other in the morning, like it was casual but it was always a big deal. At least for Gabriel. He didn’t cope well with the free time he got. Sometimes he _worked_ in his old watchmaker’s shop just to kill time, sometimes he was collecting alcohol in shops and trying to oversleep the days. Unlike Peter who kept seeking for knowledge, answers or at least entertainment. This reality was by majority created by Sylar so it was pointless to explore something he already knew. Although sometimes he came across things he didn’t know.

"I'll get a coke." Gabriel spoke up later, getting up and in the process he gave Peter a light slap on his thigh as to support himself when getting up. Just another of those familiar cheeky-Sylar gestures and Peter couldn’t get rid of that.

"Wait, hey." He stopped him, looking up and Gabriel responded with almost soundless 'hm?'

"I would...I want to ask-"

 **Boom**. A loud sound effect interrupted his statement and they both looked at the screen full of fire. The space ship exploding, people shouting and running and all the action prevented them from talking so Peter stood up too and left the room with Gabriel.

"What is it, Peter? What do you want?" He asked and folded arms on chest, knowing he wanted something and it would be a favor.

Peter looked aside, shrugging his shoulders, and then back at Gabriel. "I’ve been thinking," he licked his lips nervously, not believing his own request, “you were Nathan back then, it seemed so real, you were- you uhm-” It looked as if his eyes glistered and Gabriel didn’t need to hear more. In the end of the day it was _him_ who provoked him to this. And little did he know Peter would like to try the option sooner or later, though he refused last time.

"I get it. No problem." He was bored anyway. It took him a few brief seconds to change. His shoulders getting a bit wider, his jaws shaping, hair getting shorter – Nathan appeared. It was so simple. Just his clothes didn’t change for some reason and so Gabriel took his glasses off and put them in a pocket. Peter gasped and with no self-control he hurled into his brother’s embrace.

"I'm here for you, Pete, anytime. All you have to do is to ask." They separated and the older brother put hands on his shoulders, giving him a smile, which Peter returned. His lower lip was crooked when he smiled (dead nerves, he says) and God, Sylar himself hadn't seen that smile since..well, since Nathan last happened. Ouch.

“I’ve got uh- whole free evening.” Nathan’s hands slid down his shoulders and he suggested, in a charming improvisation, spending the day together. Peter was easily carried away this time. He didn’t even want to think about who’s behind this mask because now he had the opportunity to relax and give himself another chance. Chance he just had to take, regardless of it all being just an illusion because damn did it help a lot. It was the best he could get.

When they got out of the cinema building, Nathan led to the shopping mall nearby. The smile stayed on Peter’s face and it suited him better. He was euphoric about finding passion in this damned world, he just had to let himself. Sylar was willing enough to provide it, Peter didn't even know why. He guessed Sylar owed him and wanted to repair his karma, which was not a false assumption.

"Remember when you helped me pick a birthday present for dad in this mall," Peter said then and Nathan remembered. He still had the memories buried in his mind and some of them he could recall, ideally in connection with live vision. He was able to talk to him about Petrellis' past. During this evening, Sylar soon recognized where exactly this brotherly relationship stands. He understood Peter more than he would care to admit. In the end he lived a part of this life and he himself could be quite observant.

"And, the date you brought to your prom," Sylar managed to recall, and they both laughed, commenting on it until Sylar lost the following order of events, when he came across a large gap in the fake memories. There was always awkward silence after that but one of them brought up a new topic.

Walking around a boutique, the brothers went in and Nathan asked Peter about his opinion when randomly grabbing a few ties and a jacket on the way forward. There was still something Sylar-ish about those gestures and movements but Peter tried to ignore it.

His heart speeded up at watching his brother dress into so familiar outfit which was half of his personality (exaggeratedly). He took his upper clothes off in front of him and Peter instinctively averted his sight but kept looking at times. Gabriel knew. But Gabriel also knew that Nathan hadn’t known, every time this happened. And Gabriel laughed at him in his mind because he found it pathetic. And very inattentive.

Button by button he changed into a white dress shirt and an expensive suit jacket over it. Peter decided for a tie that looked most like Nathan. Then they left to a different shop because they liked no pants.

This way they strolled the whole floor, taking this and that in random shops they liked. The end of the hall consisted of large glazed windows with a view on the streets. That's where they stopped for a while. The setting sun rays went through the glass and created magnificent shadows stretching several meters on the floor.

"I miss you, Nathan." Peter said in the silence, looking at Nathan and keeping the look there. As if trying to engrave the view into his mind forever. The sun rays caressing his flawless face, the peaceful face, the devotion in his eyes. Maybe it was just what Peter wanted to see.

"Don't. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere, Pete." He replied. Peter just smiled sadly and turned back to watch the sunset. The moment was tensed and they both were silent when there was so much to tell.

"What is it?" Sylar pushed him first, breaking the silence. It was apparent Peter had something to say. At first he didn't want to answer. “Pete” he encouraged him in _that_ voice. Soft, low, flat and honest.

"Nothing, just—nothing" his lip did the thing as if he was biting it and he was shaking his head and denying, and then "I just love you."

Nathan smiled lightly. "I know." He had hands in pockets and faced him "but how much really?" Peter was shocked at it, he panicked, asking him quickly what he means. "Is it brotherly love?" Nathan replied, falling out of the character and Peter understood he's forcing him into something. Something that had always been buried.

"Yes—" Peter said and Nathan raised eyebrows. "No." He corrected himself.

An approach of the taller male made Peter step back. “Then how?” He was asked, he was tormented by the question. He furrowed eyebrows and his expression was worried. Why it even mattered anymore, he thought then.

“More.” He said nervously, his throat and stomach clenching, his palms sweating. Just why he could never tell this to his real brother. “Romantically.” He added. In need for support he leaned on the glazed wall.

“Only?” Sylar went closer, leaning his palm on the cold glass behind him and he proceeded close enough for their faces to be near. Peter was speechless for a moment. This wasn’t even his brother but he didn’t know what was happening to him, he was shaking.

“I-I don’t kno—“

The short space between them was filled and Sylar, in form of Nathan, muted the young Petrelli with a kiss. And Peter melted. His body stiffened, all he was capable of doing was to kiss back. Nathan placed his palms on Peter’s cheeks meanwhile, cooling the reddening face with the colder hands. When Peter opened his mouth to take a deep breath, Nathan took advantage of it and slipped his warm tongue in. Peter let out a muted moan.

“Wanna find out, then?” An inch away from his mouth, Nathan asked. Without waiting for the confused answer, the older brother took his hand and led him to the lower floor.

“Furniture, was this shop even here?” Peter asked, double confused. Nathan shrugged shoulders, getting back in the role of Petrelli’s brother to keep Peter’s heart racing wild. And his pants rightly _tight_.

“It’s a dream.” He explained and walked inside. It seemed like he knew where he’s going, perhaps he’d been here recently. Peter found himself in the bed section and not all the beds were made (certainly Sylar’s attempt to make it look more homely). The shape-shifter took place at one of the king sized beds. Peter furrowed eyebrows in confusion.

“Is there anything, Peter,” Nathan started, in that typical politician voice (seemed almost rehearsed) “you’ve wanted to try and never told me?” He shook his head with the question, taking thoughts right out of Peter’s mind, which made him think twice about if he has Parkman’s ability too. But he couldn’t. Sylar must had been good with assumptions.

Peter stood in front of the bed as if he had forgotten his lines. “Nathan,” he breathed. This was again about taking chances, Peter would had hated himself if he took it or didn’t. He wanted to undergo one of the risks then. And he went after the option of pushing Nathan down and joining their mouths together again. Sylar smiled underneath. But didn’t smirk, he really smiled.

The thoroughly chosen clothes went right down. Tie clumsily untied, buttons undoing quickly and shakily. Nathan’s hand was on Peter’s back and it rose in the air just to make a slow movement down, making the lights in the shop go out.

“No.” Peter disconnected their lips to forbid him determinedly. “I want to see you.” He pleaded. Words got stuck in Sylar’s throat. … _Of course you do._ He was about to say but in the end he forced himself to keep the role and turned the lights on again. A smile of Nathan’s style was enough to get Peter focused again and they went after each other’s mouths again.

The young brother climbed on the top of Nathan's firm body and touched his face with his cool hands. The skin was smooth, it felt like he shaved few hours ago. It reminded Peter leaning on the door frame the other day and watching his big brother shave in front of the mirror when he himself hadn’t grown any stubble yet. His brother was almost getting important these days, fresh with spirit and ideas after college. Peter didn't feel bad for remembering it now, it just reminded him the authority of Nathan's. The certainty and safety. And he was happy.

Nathan's hands slid slowly under Peter's fitting cotton T-shirt and it gave him goosebumps. Those hands it was appropriate to hold 20 years ago, when he was very young, and then not anymore - it had been so long. Peter had loved him, always and every time. But only just certain periods of his life he felt the unbearable attraction and desperate flame of romantic love. He had fallen for him again and again and then it passed. And then it came again and he was hopeless, thinking it had never gone away.

"I love you, I love you, Nathan" he reminded him, kissing his neck and his lustful hands shifting on his chest. Nathan groaned in a low tone at the kiss, and in a swift movement pulled the T-shirt up and off Peter's burning body.

"Pete-." Sylar was about to say 'Peter' as he was being carried away but in the end cut the last letter out to give it more of Nathan's character. Peter rose his head as it sounded like he wanted to tell him something but Nate just smiled and stroked the back of his head. Peter gave him a kiss on lips in return.

And impatient as he was, Pete lowered himself back down and traced the senator's body down, bare chest that nobody got to see under the formal jacket but him. And then remembering the wedding of Nathan’s and Heidi, the old burst of jealousy was awaken and he ripped Nathan's pants down, saying “you're mine”.

"Only yours." Nathan confirmed right in follow of Peter's statement. Sylar knew what to do; he wanted to give Peter the most realistic fantasy. Maybe this wasn’t all Nathan would say, but it was the best scenario of real Nathan that Peter had in his mind. It was the perfect roleplay.

Peter lowered above his body, getting to his hips where only his underwear kept him from what he wanted. This was obviously the closest he’d ever been and he never dared to think about this in Nathan’s presence. But now when he had it within reach, oh, it felt right. He did want to place a teasing kiss on the fabric but he felt stupid. So he just pulled his boxers down, exposing his, perhaps more than semi-erected cock.

Nathan put hand on Peter's head hovering over his lap and dominantly - just enough to be an older brother but not too much to be a psychopath, he pushed his head down and Peter nearly hungrily lapped at the erected shaft, giving it a wet kiss as if he was trying out a taste of a popsicle. The older male threw his head back but kept his hand in brother's brown hair.

Despite all the circumstances; Peter didn't feel like giving in to Sylar and Sylar didn't feel like conquering Peter. It was simpler than that. The young Petrelli took his chance to please his brother like he only dared to imagine alone at the latest evening hours. Sylar played along. It wasn't unfamiliar to him and he enjoyed the role of brother Petrelli. Yet, he perceived Peter's touches intensively and subjectively, knowing no matter what this looked like - inside there was Sylar and he was dizzy from the affection he's getting. Not obedience, but the love, the care. Something he'd never really managed to enforce.

Peter's mouth surrounded the head of his arousal and he wetted it with his tongue all around, bending his head a little by the older’s inducement but so far he only took part of the length in and pulled back, making the male groan.

Peter's hands made a tour around Nathan's body meanwhile, thighs and hips and then chest. He once more teased by sucking at the base from the side, licking his way up and then finally taking half of the length in and made sure to suck in and taste every inch in his mouth, making Nathan nearly burst of pleasure. Peter's mouth was hot and Nathan wouldn't let him pull away anymore and so he forced hand at his head to go deeper at which Peter closed his eyes but relaxed. Instead of 'fuck' Sylar chose "God," and "Pete," he sighed. "I love you, Peter." He encouraged him and stroked his hair before clutching them in his fist when Peter's head went up and then down and the pace speeded up. "Just like that." He would have dirty-talked him way more but he was smart about keeping it Nathan.

Nathan was stone hard since the moment he got to touch Peter's back and Peter sucked him fast and good, getting to taste the leaking precum which he collected with his tongue.

Nathan's hand left Peter's head and got to his sweating shoulders to possibly stop him in time. 'Ah!" Nathan screamed out when Peter went deep but who the hell cares when they are alone in the world. He deep-throated him once, going back up and then down, driving his brother insane that he just wanted to buckle his hips up and fuck that needy mouth until he swallows all he can give him but he would miss out on a chance to feel him even better, and this might be his last.

So instead he muttered Peter's name and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him away "take off your pants, don't do- take them off- come back here, come, undress, completely." He instructed. Peter took him out of his mouth and glanced up with restless face and a spark in his eyes. He obeyed his brother and clumsily tried to get out of his pants fast as possible, dragging the underwear along. "Come here," once again said Nathan and brought him closer with inviting hands so that Peter straddled him and leaned down for a kiss. He went straight for his tongue and he felt waves of arousal pulsating though his whole body. Their erections brushed in the movement and Nathan promptly grasped Peter's throbbing cock to give it a few strokes and hear him moan for him. Nathan's hand, that so familiar hand, had a strong grip and skilled long fingers. It was cold and smooth, and, mind-blowing.

Nathan didn't need to hurry, his cock was well lubricated with Peter's saliva but he did count on everything and took a tube of lube in a drug store, earlier when Peter indulged different kinds of antiperspirants. There was enough space for preparation.

He separated them, letting Peter panic for a while as he reached down from the bed and fumbled for the lubricant in his pants' pocket.

"How'd you know?" Peter asked hastily and made this confused and determined face. Nathan got back to his place on the bed and rose up to kiss that mouth, biting his lower lip on that occasion.

"The looks you were giving me." He said in mid-whisper. "And I can't resist now that you're a grown man and God, you grew into pure beauty and attractiveness." Peter's heart raced when hearing this out of Nathan's mouth and as he once more added "you're beautiful," and kissed Peter's neck, while he already coated his fingers in the lubrication. He now directed them to his entrance from below. Peter moaned when the tips of his fingers, cold with the product, touched the hole and rubbed it at first. Peter was weak in knees that were the only thing holding him. Nathan's other hand was placed on Peter’s nape to bring him down into another passionate kiss. 

The first finger filled him up to the first knuckle and he twirls it around. "Mhhm, Nathan," Peter moaned when their lips separated and Nathan told him to relax, called him a brother and also that he loves him while he worked the opening with second finger added.

To be honest, it wasn’t a comfortable feeling at first, Peter wasn’t used to this and his face was reddening. His eyes met Nathan’s from under the brown bangs and instead of falling in another kiss, Peter nuzzled up against Nathan’s neck as they often do when they hug. He sent hot breaths under his ear as he reacted to the movements of his fingers inside him. Nathan truly enjoyed hearing the sighs and soft moans.

When he thought Peter was ready, and also already trembling in the difficult position above him, he added some little more of the lube on his own cock, which couldn’t get any less stiff while watching and hearing Peter like this, yet he gave it a few eased pumps for better effect.

“Ready?” Nathan lifted his eyebrows and Peter actually bit his lower lip this time and nodded restlessly. It was about to happen. Sudden amount of excitement but also guilt captured Peter. His own big brother, it was extreme. And it was fantastic.

Peter positioned himself and with Nathan’s help he was seated down onto him. Nathan’s erection stretched him some wider but it slipped in quite easily thanks to the lubrication. It hurt just at the first extension, making him pant in slight difficulty to take it. But it was acceptable when he adjusted. He got goosebumps, this feeling was extraordinary and he liked it in the strangest way, giving it a groan when going deeper. “That’s-..ah” he tried to say something, in the end just shaking head and closing eyes.

He was deep enough when Nathan raised himself, grabbing Peter’s slim body and kissing his collar bone. His young brother moaned loud as Nathan’s hips pushed up in the process. “Fuck,” he swore for the first time, following by Nathan’s name. Then he said please, for some reason, and himself put his hips in motion.

Nathan sighed, being deafened with the ecstasy when his brother rode him almost skillfully, making them both feel good. He traced Peter’s neck and chest with his lips, kissing or sucking on his skin. His hands held his waist.

To Peter, this all has always been just a fantasy. And in this way, it still was. It was a bitter waking into reality when he realized that this man, this sublime man, the most important man in his life: is just an illusion. Or maybe it was worse than that. He doesn't disappear between his fingers but he remains and when he throws away this mask, Peter will have to face the evil underneath and he never wanted to see it again. A pleasurable groan dragged itself up his throat when hips of his lover met him halfway and thrust forcibly. And then again and again, searching ways to Peter's sweet spot. Peter swung his arms around Nathan's neck and he tilted his head down to lean it on brother’s forehead. He was starting to feel weak and when his partner sensed it, he gripped him tight and switched the position.

Peter was laid (practically thrown) on the mattress and Nathan held his legs spread to take lead and fuck him from the perspective. Peter felt beautiful and numb at the same time. His body was getting shocks of pleasure and he might be screaming without even knowing but all he knew was that his eyes were getting blurry and his vision pictured Sylar. Above him; taking him, owning him, and he could do nothing about it. Yet his Nathan was still there, still looked, sounded and felt the same. He even seemed to try to suppress the harsh trusts and make his movements smoother and gentler.

"I love you, Peter." He said again but Peter stared blankly. His eyes closed briefly at the pressure and he knew it's getting close to its over. Nathan's hands were all on him and then he held his stiffened cock and he felt it about to come, thanks to the stimulation of his worst enemy - it was so damn exciting. He hated every second of this and he hated Sylar, he ultimately buried his brother when having sex with this bastard but oh it felt so good and who knows if Nathan was in fact this great in bed. Now Peter could have it all, it was Nathan on the outside and a perfect lover in the inside, yet, yet he knew he lost him when he heard the muted voice telling him he's going to come, thrusting deep and fast suddenly, the illusions vanished, Peter blinked eyes and several tears flew down his face.

"Goodbye, Nathan." His voice trembled. He shut eyes tightly and Nathan was confused but it was too late and he spilled the results of pleasure into the young brother, who felt like being poisoned at that moment. With mixture of feelings he reacted to strokes of Nathan’s hand and came too, so intensively it made his legs tingle. During it he stayed silent, though, his lips were parted but nothing resounded, the tears just quietly trickled down. Nathan soon tumbled down next to him and asked a thousand times what is wrong and what happened. Peter was quiet and he only cried, hugging him weakly.

\--

Many hours later, Peter woke up in a stiff but warm and pleasing position. He found himself in a close embrace. He was covered in a blanket up to the waist and held the arm of his lover who warmed his back with his bare body. First thought to pop into his mind was Nathan and he felt happiness when remembering last night.

It was improbable for this to happen before, _for real,_ and Peter couldn’t stop blaming himself for not at least trying. It would damage their good relationship just for a while and maybe those feelings would even pass. In case he succeeded and met the small chance of Nathan feeling the same, he would have woken up like this more times. Sighing, Peter stroked the back of his lover’s hand and in that moment it hit him. These fine dark hairs, this hand. He gasped in shock and let go of him immediately. _Right_.

Slowly turning around he found his own personal nightmare. (Nightmare in a nightmare – and how does he even sleep in a dream? He thought quickly.) “Sylar.” He muttered in a sleepy, hoarse voice, with hint of – disappointment, sadness, hatred. Sylar felt that all being sent in his direction. He opened his eyes slowly. _Could be expected_.

“I’m sorry, Peter.” Was his surprising reply. “I must have changed during my sleep.” He lied.

Peter shifted himself finally a bit further, casting him a mistrustful look at which Sylar had to roll eyes. “Is it that terrible?”

“Well… I’m just surprised to see you. It’s just-“ he started confusedly, “I was falling asleep with Nathan, ..and I wake up next to someone..”

“Like me.” Sylar added sarcastically. “Got it.” Sitting up he briefly found his pants and pulled them on. “I’m sorry for fulfilling your childhood wet dreams and letting you use me.”

Peter felt guilty for a moment but then he decided to defend himself. “It’s your fault I couldn’t achieve that in reality!” Sylar laughed at that.

“ _Really?_ You think I was the obstacle? That this would _ever_ happen between you and Nathan? Not if you had thousand years! Did you know that Nathan had no clue? He never noticed a thing, gosh!” He looked up to the ceiling, putting hand over his mouth briefly. “And it’s not like he pretended not to know. He, in fact, didn’t know! I mean, you were so _obvious_. That you were into your brother, in love with him. You were attracted by him, by the authority of the senator, and you _adored_ him!” Peter’s eyes got red as he tried to hold the tears no matter what. He quickly fumbled for his own pants and then left the bed as well.

“Shut up! You said you changed! Why are you mocking me?! Maybe I didn’t want my brother to know! It was clearly platonic and you offered yourself quite willingly. You never knew what it’s like to love somebody or be loved. This is why you’re constantly lonely, you’re an asshole!” He shouted back.

Sylar couldn’t listen to this anymore so he left the shop without reply. Maybe he knew more about love than Peter thought. Seeing him so terrified after waking up next to him, so disappointed that it’s not Nathan, it broke Sylar’s heart in two. He didn’t expect to feel this so intensively, just why was he so defenseless suddenly? He was humiliated and he wanted his pride back.

\--

“Why did you do that?” Peter asked curiously after several days passed. They met on a rooftop they both visit from time to time.

“Did what?” He asked back, sitting at the edge of the roof and eating tacos.

“Why…did you play Nathan for me? Why really? You were right, I practically used you, I feel stupid.”

“So do I.” He added right away, wiping a bit of sauce from his mouth by the back of his hand. Then he continued staring blankly at the city. Petrelli sat beside him to get more of his attention. “You know, Peter,” he swallowed a morsel and continued, “firstly, I owe you a lot. Secondly, I’m not a bad person anymore, I want to help you. Thirdly, I’ve always _looved_ roleplaying,” he tilted his head back when saying this and laughed, “but. I also,” he glanced at him, finally feeling like himself, not the evil himself but the good and charismatic himself he’d aspired to be “wanted to sleep with you.” He shocked him, smiling. “And I know you wouldn’t do it unless I seduce you as your brother.” He nodded slowly and once again he laughed shortly with mouth closed.

“…you’re so sick.” Peter whispered.

“You screwed your own brother.” Sylar reminded him with eyebrows lifted. Peter admitted that remark and laughed with him.

There was silence after that. Peter felt his heart beating faster once again. So did Sylar’s but he didn’t wonder why.

“I’m not even gay.” Sylar shrugged his shoulders.

“Neither.” Pete added. They gave each other a look and smiled. Sylar's look with that smile lasted. He scanned Peter's face and somehow he couldn’t get enough.  

"I'm trying to read your mind.." Peter started and shook head in confusion, "but I can't." It's true that he'd never managed since they were here, even though Peter had got Matt's ability last.

"Maybe I'm not letting you." Sylar explained himself, looking up expressionlessly.

"Are you that powerful?"

Sylar laughed shortly. "Well, it's my world but I actually am."

"Allow me." Peter requested. Sylar laughed and shook head as he looked aside again.

"You can never be free if you're still afraid of your own mind." Peter nudged him. Sylar didn't respond. But he stopped resisting so hard. They both faced the buildings in front of them in silence.

The silence was interrupted by Peter's surprised gasp and he kind of regretted digging into someone else's business.

"I'm-sorry, I didn't know." He panicked a bit and Sylar rather stood up as he felt pressure of the situation reach him. He tossed the wrapping of his tacos off the roof.

"No wonder. It must run in the family, you Petrellis are extremely inattentive. Nathan was self-centered and you suffer of inferiority complex." He let out a low sarcastic laugh and jumped off the elevated edge they were sitting at. The worst is, he was right.

Peter was speechless and he couldn't say a word when Sylar was walking away. He couldn't let that sink in, he still saw him as a psychopathic murderer with no feelings. How can he possibly feel like this.

\--

Later at night, Peter was thinking all that through on a regular stroll through the empty streets. He didn't even find it depressive anymore. He knew he will never get his brother back and Sylar also won't be his brother always and every time he asks. But that was again the problem, Peter wasn't so much aware of what people can do for real love. Perhaps he would also do absolutely anything for Nathan. He just didn't believe he could ever be loved this much.

Around few corners, he could hear muted music. It was stretching along the long streets, steady beats reached him even closer and it wasn't such surprise Sylar played loud music, yet Peter thought it was disturbing and he couldn't help but follow the sound. It was not like he had anything better to do. And Sylar either went crazy or wanted him to come.

The steps led him in the center where he soon appeared among night clubs. Only one of them was enlightened and played blast loud 80’s music. This was really no surprise; despite that Gabriel had always been an outsider, he did look like the party type. And it seemed like Peter wasn’t the only one getting nostalgic. This music must have accompanied his teenage years, he recognized it himself after all.

The interior was sad. Nice, yeah, but abandoned. The lights shone and the walls were nearly cracking from the loud rhythm but there was just one single person in the main dancing hall. And boy, he was wasted. Like a girl after the most tragic high school prom. So wasted.

 _“I’m on the hiiiiiighway to hell!”_ He sang. He was spread all over the surface of the bar counter. A few glasses and bottles were lying on the floor or the bar, some of it spilled. “Hiiiiighway to hell!” He repeated over and over with the song and he was utterly absorbed into the music. He was screaming like nothing could ever stop him and it was not alright. He was a wreck.

Peter walked around the DJ stand so he leaned over it to turn the music slightly down.  Sylar didn’t even seem to notice it, he just made pause in singing to sink in another gulps of the bottle he held, arm hanging down. Peter came closer. Sylar was ready. But he didn’t give a damn.

“Sylar, what the fuck?!” Peter sped up his steps, never seeing him in this state before. He was shocked by noticing bits of white powder under Sylar’s nose. His lips were wet, his stubble two or three days untouched. The paramedic’s rescuing instinct flared up at the moment and his hands were already on his hot, hot burning skin and tracing his veins pulsating the blood in hurry. To his fast beating heart. His pupils were dilated and his look absent. Peter couldn’t say if he was aware of his touches. Either too much or not at all.

"Whiskey, my friend.” He said then, staring still into the ceiling and Peter felt something prod at him, finding out it’s the bottle Sylar held. “A whiskey for my absolute _favorite_ person in the whole world." His voice was out of any reasonable tone when he handed it to his visitor. His look was absolutely crazy when he turned head to him.

“You need to stop!” The young Petrelli snatched it from him and placed elsewhere, no matter where as Sylar immediately forgot there was any bottle at all. In fact, to be completely honest, Peter panicked. Not so much because of his profession or the responsibility, and maybe not even because Sylar was his last company on Earth. But maybe because he cared a little. Just maybe it was terrible to see him out of his fucking mind, twitching on the table and starting to laugh or cough – God just knows what he’s found and taken! Peter knew he needed to get him out of here.

Drugs weren’t fun. And he overdid this too bad. It would be so easy for someone as fierce as him to overdose himself. And maybe this was a dream and maybe he was immortal but clearly the drugs had an impact on him. It worked and it apparently pleased Sylar. Soon to that he explained himself:

“Did you know that I can’t get really drunk with this regenerating ability?” He laughed but Peter’s face stayed straight. “And you know, ‘bout the shape-shifting. I tried to shift my organs, ha!” Peter rolled his eyes. “But these drugs, that’s some sweet shit, oh my god! Hah! Man. I think they taught the freaking ability good lesson. It’s short on them! I feel my head spinning finally, again, damn!” During that he was forcibly grabbed by waist and pulled down the counter. He slipped down easily, like he was made of jelly, right in the space between the bar and Peter.

“Pete, Peter” he put arms around his neck and leaned close enough for Peter to nearly taste the smell of the liquor. “I wanna make love to you.” He smiled, his face already snuggling against his neck and Peter lifted his brows, yet secretly that made his heart speed up. For a while he was paralyzed.

“You’re really high and I want you to come with me before you die.” He told him calmly but strictly. Pushing him away, he looked straight into his eyes and he was so ridiculously responsible to Sylar. His lip was crooked and he never even realized it.

“Because you care?” Sylar followed the sentence immediately and prevented Peter from dragging him away as he’d been trying for a while. Instead of it he was pulling him closer onto his body. He had quite strength, even in this state. Peter didn’t reply to him but Sylar purred, brushing his lips over Peter’s. Then he licked them slowly and Peter gasped, giving him a perfect opportunity to get inside. He always did this. Additionally he bucked his hips against Peter’s and damn he was horny. And uncontrollable.

“I wanna fuck you so bad” He apparently changed his vocabulary and it was just the matter of seconds before Sylar hurled him on the ground and he eagerly ripped his pants off. Peter was startled at the behavior but also strangely excited. Everything was wrong and everything possible in this world. Sylar rolled his t-shirt up, collecting _so_ much adrenaline. He was agitated and shaking, clearly having no control over his body and Peter soon realized how dangerous that is.

First he kissed his neck, then he bit it and then sucked. Peter screamed but it melted into the loud AC/DC music. His body twitched at the pain but the worst was still about to come. Now he was shirtless and Sylar rubbed their hips together. “Tell me you love me.” He demanded. Peter said “what” so Sylar repeated himself angrily but also desperately. “Tell me you love me, Peter, I need to hear it again, tell me…” he breathed out, repeating such words to Peter’s ear so he would hear it over the music.

Poor Peter was so bewildered, all he could do was groan by cause of Sylar’s needy thrusts, as he got, still dressed, between his legs and teased with those erotic movements. He took a fistful of Peter’s hair and desperately he pleaded, leaning over his mouth by now. Before he could give him an answer, suddenly a large amount of electricity discharged from Sylar and captured both of them. It enlightened the whole room so brightly it turned off all the shining lights and Peter’s shout echoed cleanly at the moment the music was shut off as well.

The room was pitch black and quiet. Way too quiet. Gabriel fell down next to Peter as he was completely exhausted. He was panting hard and he just realized how much he’s sweating. “Peter,” he breathed then.

“Oh my god, Peter,” finally he crawled closer and checked his condition. “Oh no, no no no no, Peter, fuck.” The drugs slowly ceased to affect him but his head was spinning like hell and he was literally sick and tired. But in the panic mode he overcame it all. Because Peter’s heart didn’t beat. Who helps paramedics?

As the first thing Sylar tried the resuscitation but it didn’t seem to help at all and he whimpered in distress and then he stood up, searching for a source of light. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he wandered around and while cursing Peter can’t regenerate himself no more, and he knew he could, so an idea popped up in his mind. Under the bar counter he searched on his knees for a syringe he used before. He knew it was highly dangerous and unhygienic but he didn’t care when Peter’s life was in danger. Moreover, what the hell, this is a dream! How come he can _die_? Sylar thought and already hurried to the body.

He transferred his own ‘miraculous’ blood in Peter’s system and waited, holding his body in his arms like he was the most precious thing in his life. And he was.

“Sylar…you asshole.” Peter said when he opened his eyes and smiled because he was done. Sylar gasped and only clutched him closer, laying his head on his and he cried continuously.

_\--_

They stayed in the local hospital, which Peter worked at, to recover. Fortunately Peter’s body was just fine after Sylar gave him the dose of himself. He was slightly drugged too, since the blood and syringe were drugged, understandably, but they slept it off.

“How long have we been off?” Gabriel asked when they both woke up. Their bodies were stiff and weak, no wonder, they found themselves lying in one hospital bed, facing each other.

“In general, or now?” Peter smiled and grasped his hand.

“You know what, don’t even tell me. I don’t care anymore.” They agreed on that. But just for overview, they must have slept at least for fifteen hours after the incident in the club. Now everything seemed alright.

Sometimes, Petrelli watched Sylar in silent awe. From time to time, really ever since they appeared here, he was realizing just how wonderful and charismatic person Gabriel could be. If he didn't mess so many things up. On the other hand, maybe he would lose part of that charm if everybody didn't fixate on the idea of him being a coldblooded killer. It was the thrill about him. Despite that, now, he was nothing more than a messed up lonely man. Yes, with past, with abilities, but still just a human being. There was still so much Gabriel in Sylar. And it had to take all of this to realize.

“Now I know. And I don’t think I can forgive myself. Ever.” Gabriel told him then, with so much guilt.

“You’re digging into the past again.”

“I saw you die. I felt you die. And I knew I would be alone forever again. I was scared. But I don’t have to live with that. You do.” He averted his gaze.

“Yeah, I do. But life isn’t fair, Sylar.” He raised his hand and placed it on his cheek, correcting himself. “Gabriel.” At that his companion looked back at him.

“I’m sorry I killed you, Peter.” He apologized honestly. Peter just smiled at it and remembered what Claire once told him.

“I've died before. It's no big deal.” Gabriel smiled lightly too. “But you were stupid. What the fuck even happened? Did you dope yourself with some adrenaline?!”

“No idea, man. I collected what I found, I wanted you bad. I think I came.” They both laughed. “Still, remember that guy who killed everything he touched? I kind of feel like that sometimes. And I don’t even need that ability.”

“That is over. I saw you did everything you could for me when you started regretting. You tried to give me back Nathan, and you didn’t let me die. I appreciate it. I know you’re sorry and I know how you feel.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t even need to get inside your head to know.” He stroked his cheek. “And I don’t think I can tell you I love you too. I don’t hate you but I don’t love you either, and-“

Gabriel’s eyes widened. His heart raced after hearing the sentence. Ridiculously, he got butterflies in his stomach.

“Say it again.” He told Peter. With strange enthusiasm and anticipation.

“What?” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Say it.”

“I’m sorry, I said… I- don’t love you back but-“

Gabriel smiled. Is he that naive or he just didn’t even know what he feels? One way or another, the redeemed villain brought him into a kiss.

Peter’s forgotten that Gabriel can tell when he’s lying.

 


End file.
